


Collateral Queer

by Octopocalypse



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bullying, Extremely Dubious Consent, Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Squip, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octopocalypse/pseuds/Octopocalypse
Summary: Just a normal day for Michael Mell, getting called fag in the halls. Things are about to go from bad to worse when Rich and Jake decide to figure out just HOW gay Michael is.---Low whines cut through the shitty sound barrier, vision shaky as the camera man struggles with something. The sound of a belt being undone causes Michaels face to loom into view again. Teary eyed and fearful from the comfort of his hood, glancing a good foot below the eye of the camera.“See something you like?” the voice hums and that ferocity is back in those brown eyes-





	Collateral Queer

**Author's Note:**

> Did you read the tags? This is underage rape and as the profits of old once said: dont like dont read.
> 
> Im serious, this isnt "cute" rape
> 
> Edit: so I wrote this fic after having only seen the bootleg. That said, Jakes character is... severly wrong. I will be working this fic at my leisure so take that into consideration when judging his portrayal!

There’s an upset of red before things lose focus. Tan against white skin then: black. Frantic whispers: secrets of the dark giving no light to the situation whatsoever, muffled under the weight of their own urgency. A few low grunts and a hiss before the camera emerged from darkness again.

The picture was grainy, low light melting everything into the background. Centerfold, a rumpled red hoodie, vandalised by patches. It’s owner curled in on himself in a disheveled mess, vandalized by another body invading his personal space. Movement never ceased, the effects of which echoed out on the brunettes face: slight discomfort with a hint of regret.

“Move dude, we can’t see the action,” a voice barks from behind the phone, and the brunette looks up, flushing with new found anger and embarrassment at the sight of it. He opened his mouth, an arsenal of curses stored behind his teeth only to fall silent as his jaw slacks. 

The blond in front of him leans back, exposing the source of his problems.  
Michaels legs spread in either direction, dark black curls interrupted by flushed shiny skin. The camera bolded closer, resulting in angry stares beneath thick framed glasses and an utterance of “asshole” from swollen lips. The blond stayed firm within him despite the interruption, his dick shoved between tan cheeks. Every movement translated into Michael's shaking frame.

“Shit man… he’s totally hard,” a breathless reply broke the cameras concentration, a broad hand reaching forward to seize Michael’s arousal.  
The brunette’s head tossing back in the process. A barely visible tremor shakes through him and the camera follows it to the flex of muscle in his core.

“Shhhhit.” comes out a low lisping hiss from off screen and Rich moves his hand around Michael's dick, pulling out more of those trembling flexes.

“Told you he was gay as hell,” the third voice replies, lower, hunger filling up its humored tone. Michael cuts him a glare and begins to mutter something again only to be cut off. His head falls back again, train of thought interrupted by something; Rich beginning to move, easing in and out, in time to his jerks. 

Low whines cut through the shitty sound barrier, vision shaky as the camera man struggles with something. The sound of a belt being undone causes Michaels face to loom into view again. Teary eyed and fearful from the comfort of his hood, glancing a good foot below the eye of the camera.

“See something you like?” the voice hums and that ferocity is back in those brown eyes- ready to spit insults- Just like last time, it vanishes, words replaced by whimpers and shocked gasps. Rich comes back into view, leaning over the bulk of Michael and slamming hips into him ruthlessly. The voice behind the camera laughs as the brunette wiggles against the intrusion, his back pressed hard into the mats behind him, arms struggling from under his back.

“Damn- it’s hot when he fucks the feisty out of you.” the camera shakes a little harder than before, Rich and Michael seeming miles away one pushing harder, firmer, deeper into the other. Labored breaths fall from either of them, Michaels face contorting into frustration or any expression but pleasure.  
Eventually blond spikes cover up his face entirely, giving a few shakey pumps of his hips before coming to a stop. Shudders running down Rich’s spine and groans pooling into the dark room.

Breathing slows, choked hiccups fill the air and Rich draws up, looking spent but satisfied and turns toward the camera. A glimpse of his eyes before the frame is pulled away, pointed to the floor, giving a glance of the room.  
Baskets of balls, nets hanging from the wall and other gym equipment littered about as the cameramans voice hisses over the shuffling.  
“Idiot keep your face out of the shot-” the voice growls with apparent urgency.

When Michael comes back into view his face is tear stained and exhausted, some ounce of relief now that Rich has pulled away (and can be heard doing up his pants off to the side).

There's some shuffling then, and the phone is passed off, a taller body sliding into view.  
“Keep my face out of it.” he warns, clearly annoyed by Rich’s incompetence, and steadies himself in front of Michael. Who barely notices at first, but then his eyes widen, back twisting, trying to pull himself away. Elbows wiggling again against unseen restraints, curses finally spilling out.

“Fuck no, get away from me you creep-” He sputters with all the fire and fear of a dog in a bear trap. One good strain interrupts his complaints even as the boy’s hands land on his thighs- pushing them apart. Michael tenses and makes a bigger effort to squirm away, close his legs, anything. All the while swears pouring from him.

“You fuck! You cunt-”

“Come on now Mikey, I’m not gunna leave you unsatisfied.” The voice coo’s from above him, moving closer so that his swollen member prods against his entrance.

“I-” Michael’s voice cracks as pressure is applied to his hole- eyes squeezing shut, allowing a few more tears to drip down his cheeks and one shuddered gasp to replace his words.

“Don’t worry, this will go easy…” The taller boy hums, sliding in with relative ease and Michael is once again silent, except for the long whine tearing through his throat.

“Rich is quite a bit thicker than me-” The teasing voice continues as he sinks in inch by agonizing inch.

“But I’m longer.” He laughs, alarm spreading across Michael's face as he bottoms out. 

“Nothing a fag like you can’t handle.” The camera fumbles in the hands of Rich as he tries to squeeze between the two and get a better shot of skin flush on skin, pushed together by force. Michael's back curled against the cushioned wall, dipping under the force of it, eyebrows drawn in and eyes squeezed shut as he makes valiant attempts to ease his breathing.

“Fuck you Jake.” He seeths- some attempt to gain the upper hand, thwarted by Jake pulling his hips back and rendering Michael to nothing more than dribbling groans.

“Actually I’m gunna fuck you Mell,” He retorts, reveling in the effect his length has as it slides in and out of the boy’s soiled body, preslicked with Rich’s release.  
Grunts and moans are exchanged between the boys, Michael's more reluctant than Jake’s, and then he grabs him by the hilt.

Micheal’s eyes blow wide and stare at Jake hard, angrily.

“What are you- gn- doing?”

He doesn’t get a reply, just more rocking of hips sending him into a sea of reluctant pleasure. His lip bitten, face torn between frustration and bliss. One hand pumping away at him as those hips smack against his lower half, jostling his soft body further and further into the mats.  
Grunts turn into whines and very subtly Michael lifts his hips- not noticeably enough on screen but Rich blurts it out with a laugh- shattering the intimacy, shattering the smaller boy’s visage.

“Oh he’s getting into it! Look- look he wants more!” Rich squealed behind the camera, earning a glare from Michael, reminds him he was being filmed- reminds him to be thoroughly embarrassed. Michael redoubles his effort- pulls away despite the sensation of firm skin sliding across his insides igniting tremors of pleasure throughout him. He pulls away ignoring the way his body latches on to Jake and nearly screams for more. Every rub against his prostate bringing him closer and closer to total annihilation. 

Each effort thwarted by the fact he was pinned between the mats with very little purchas, his wrists were bound behind him and the fact that everytime he moved he only facilitated Jake’s desires.

“I’m totally gunna cum in you.” Jake’s voice rolled out with a low sort of possessiveness that boys tend to get when lost in the heat.

“Don’t you fucking dare…” Mìchael replied, less threatening than he had hoped.

“Alright fine, I won’t.” Jake murmured much to his surprise. Causing Michael to look up with surprise, just as Jake’s grip tightened around his shaft and began pumping and fucking him with ferocity.

“Just fucking with you-” he panted, Michael too lost in the daze to even spite him for it.

“I totally am… so,” his voice almost drowns out below the sounds of his hips against Michaels thighs, below the squeak if the mats, below the breathing and moans its hard to even tell if Michael heard him.

“You might, as well, enjoy it.” He breaths out a dull finality that bleeds urgency into his movements until Michael is shamelessly humping into the other boys hand, choking back his attempt to sound dignified as his body throbs hot strings of semen across his hoodie.

Jake revels in the rythmic pulsing around his cock, drawing out the last few seconds of his release as deep as he could reach before drawing back. The sensation leaves Michael empty, panting and sore. Jake ignores him entirely for doing up his pants, and Rich shoves him by the shoulder enough that he can tug the knots out of the jump rope binding his wrists. 

He’s too tired for insults, comebacks or running away so he just breaths. Laying there, tugging at the waistband of his pants in an attempt to right some of the overwhelming wrong in the air.  
His eyes blink open just in time to flinch at the hand coming down to pat his shoulder. Rich tugs him closer, gets a good focus on fogged glasses and wet red cheeks. The grin evident in his words as he rubs Michael- the opposite of comforting.

“See you around, queer.”


End file.
